I Hate Folding Clothes Because of Socks

Photo Source: splatter.com

I enjoy a cool breezy day. Blue skys marked with puffy white clouds, bring a smile to my face. The slight warmth of the sun touches my skin. Ahhh what a great feeling! A feeling I know nothing about currently, because I am folding clothes. Folding clothes is actually a pretty simple task. A task that allows you to sit, relax, watch TV, listen to music, and much more. However, I hate folding clothes because of socks!

There has never and I mean never been a time when folding clothes was a completely enjoyable task. Overall it probably ranks number one on my household list of tasks I actually want to do. As I reach into the big pile of clothes I recently dumped onto my bed I grab a shirt. No problem. Some shorts. Easy. Pants. A little extra arm work,  but who am I to complain. Then I absently reach into the pile, because my attention now belongs to an episode of Psych that I’ve seen numerous times. What have we here? A sock…great! The sock gets tossed to the “sock pile for later sorting.”

As the day goes on and all of the laundry is done, I am left with the infamous “sock pile for later sorting.” Later is now, and sorting sucks!  I take on the daunting task by first sorting by color. If I can make a match now I am thrilled. In fact I do a quick celebratory dance every time I get a match without further investigation. Next, it’s size time. Between my husband, myself, and two sons (9 &2), the sizes of the socks vary.  At this point I look for the tiny socks in each color and they are moved out of the way and matched (that’s the easiest part). Then, it’s on to pulling out my socks. I never have issues here.  Finally, the challenge arises!

Photo Source: pretapregnant.com

Between my husband and my oldest son, they have fifty thousand pairs of socks (overexaggerated figure, but you get the point). They have knee length, calf length, ankle socks, no-show socks, ribbed socks, dress socks, Happy Socks, socks with a red line, socks with a blue line, socks with names, socks without names. I feel like a Dr.  Seuss book! 

After finally matching most of the socks, I am left with the head scratching task of figuring what to do with all of the pairless socks spread before me. I know exactly what I am going to do…put them to be washed for next time. Hopefully their twins will show up in the next wash.

K. A. Smith